


we are the heavy clouds

by kiyala



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, M/M, Marvel Universe Big Bang, Mutual Pining, hipsters only not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-07
Updated: 2012-11-07
Packaged: 2017-11-18 03:52:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/556602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiyala/pseuds/kiyala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki Laufeyson is a fashion designer who dreams of making it big. He's also one of those hipsters that you hate—the ones who loudly claim to hate mainstream bands while secretly loving them. Loki's favourite band The Thunder—led by Thor Odinson, love of Loki's life—go mainstream. Loki struggles to balance his genuine liking for Thor and the band with the fact that he feels like just another dumb fan.</p><p>Instead, Loki spends most of his time working on his clothes designs and drinking with his best friend and favourite model, Amora. But when Loki finally makes it big and begins to design clothes for none other than billionaire playboy Tony Stark, his dreams seem like they're coming true. Little does he know that this is only the tip of the iceberg.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we are the heavy clouds

**Author's Note:**

> I want to give a _huge_ thank you to Hibiscus, who did the art for this story, which you can find over [here](http://users.livejournal.com/__hibiscus/222877.html). Please do check it out! :D
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you to [verymilkytea](http://archiveofourown.org/users/verymilkytea) for the original inspiration that kicked this off. Thank you to basically half my twitter list, but mainly MC, [pie](http://piecrmbs.tumblr.com/) and [Mizzy](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Mizzy/pseuds/Mizzy) for your encouragement. 
> 
> Finally, thank you to [sneaqui](http://archiveofourown.org/users/sneaqui) and [laria_gwyn](http://laria-gwyn.livejournal.com/) for beta reading this for me. Any remaining mistakes are my own.

The concert starts with the loud bang of drums—two beats, amplified by the large speakers to make the venue shake, like thunder. It’s accompanied by the flicker of lights—like lightning—and Loki is among the first to start cheering. 

Amora raises an eyebrow at him, clearly amused, but he shrugs in reply. It’s the way The Thunder have begun all of their concerts since they were still starting up, and it’s the first time the venue’s been big enough for it to actually have its intended effect.

And okay, maybe Loki’s a little bitter about the fact that the band had to go mainstream for it to happen. Maybe he’s only had bad things to say about them since the deal, since they topped the charts, and maybe he’s declared that the only reason he’s going to this concert is because it will give him ammunition to write the worst concert review ever, but he’s here. Despite everything else he might have to say about the band and about their music, _this_ is all that really matters.

The lights come back on, and the crowd starts cheering all over again now that they can make out all five band members on the stage. Volstagg is sitting at the back on a raised platform with his drum kit. Sif is to his left with her bass guitar and Hogun is to his right, his cello held ready. At the front of the stage, on lead guitar with a microphone stand in front of him is Fandral. Finally, on lead vocals, guitar slung over his shoulder, is the frontman of the band and the regular feature of every single one of Loki’s fantasies: Thor.

He’s wearing a tank that displays his impossibly muscled arms and a grin that says he’s just as excited as the rest of them. Hogun starts playing the introduction of the first track from their most recent album and the crowd erupts into cheers all over again. Loki stands where he is, right in the front row, clinging to the barricade, and cannot tear his eyes away from Thor. Here, on stage, in front of an entire arena full of screaming fans, he’s like a god in his own domain.

He starts singing, and Loki is caught up in the music, feeling every beat of every song travel right through him until he can feel nothing else. They perform new songs, but they also do some of their older songs—the ones that Loki remembers learning word for word at their smaller gigs, what feels like _ages_ ago. He mouths the lyrics to all of them—even the more obscure songs—and Fandral grins when he notices, pointing at him. Thor scans the crowd, clearly curious, and his gaze travels over Loki before snapping back to him. Loki feels Amora elbow him and he elbows her back, not knowing what else to do. He stares in return, until Thor looks away, focusing on another point in the audience. Loki doesn’t know what to think so he just doesn’t, for now. He pushes it from his mind, until the concert is over, Thor thanking them all for their support before playing Loki’s favourite song from their newest album.

He walks out of the concert hall with his head still spinning, his heart still pounding. Amora links arms with him, leading him through the crowd and to their favourite all-night diner. She orders food for both of them and then rests her chin in her hand, grinning at Loki.

“So are you going to write the most scathing review about how much you absolutely hated that concert? And are you going to mention how Thor was _completely_ checking you out for a while, there?”

Loki snorts loudly, sinking back into his seat. “ _Please_. He was completely not. Why would he, anyway?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Perhaps he remembers this skinny hipster who has been to _every single performance_ they’ve ever had. I’m pretty sure you have a collection of ticket stubs—”

“Keep it _down_ ,” Loki hisses, glancing around.

“Oh, we wouldn’t want anyone to know that you _like_ The Thunder now, would we?” Amora asks in mock horror. “Just imagine. All your hipster cred, gone.”

Narrowing his eyes, Loki kicks her under the table. “You are _so_ funny. I hate you.”

“Of course you don’t. You can’t afford to hate me.” Amora smiles sweetly as their food is brought out to the table. “You’d never find anybody else willing to put up with half the ridiculous shit that I do. Besides, if you went anywhere, I’d miss you far too much. Nobody else is as fun to talk to, and you might not tell the truth about the little things, but you’re honest when it matters.”

“I’m always honest with you,” Loki says, digging into the basket of wedges in front of him. “Whether I mean to be or not. You know me so well that you always know what I really mean. I… appreciate that, actually. I didn’t think I’d ever _appreciate_ that somebody could see right through the shit, but there you go.”

“Just listen to yourself. That’s so terrible sappy that I’d ask if you’re appropriating lyrics from The Thunder if I didn’t already know every song by heart due to the sheer number of times you’ve played them.”

Scowling, Loki kicks her under the table again. “Worst. Friend. Ever.”

«·»

The following day is good. Loki gets home from the concert and writes up his review, picking on every little thing he can without mentioning _any_ of the positives. He posts it on the fan forum and on his own blog, amused as the defensive replies pour in. The one thing he likes most about the other fans of The Thunder is that they’re so easy to offend. All it takes is one small comment. Loki has been riling them up for fun ever since the band was signed with Song BMG and hit the charts.

Unfortunately, his night is nowhere near as enjoyable. His father has decided that they’re having a family dinner, which means that Loki needs to drag himself all the way from his tiny apartment out to the sprawling mansion that he feels no real attachment to.

His father, Laufey Frost, is the CEO of one of the biggest marketing companies out there. It’s earned him a lot of money and—apparently—the right to expect that everyone will do exactly as he demands.

That has never sat particularly well with Loki. Not when he was young, and definitely not when he was a little older and decided that he was going to become a fashion designer instead of taking over the company the way Laufey had expected. Laufey had promptly withdrawn all of his support—financial or otherwise—leaving Loki struggling to keep everything together. Loki hasn’t quite forgiven Laufey for it, and although Laufey still includes Loki in the family, he makes it clear that this should be seen as a favour; that he is a disappointment. 

Loki, for the most part, really doesn’t care. It’s just times like these, when they’re all seated at the dining table; Laufey, Loki, and his two younger brothers, Helblindi and Bylesitr. Their mother passed away a long time ago and Loki doesn’t remember her much at all. He supposes that she must have had a slight build like him, because all three other men are bulky and broad-shouldered. Loki has always been tall, but he still feels dwarfed by his younger brothers. It’s yet another thing that sets him apart from the rest of the family and makes him feel like he doesn’t belong. 

“So tell me, how is your _fashion designing_ going?” Laufey asks as they eat, the mockery clear in his tone.

“Absolutely fine, Father. My company won an award just last month—”

“ _Your_ company,” Helblindi scoffs.

“The company I work for,” Loki corrects calmly.

“The company didn’t win the award based on _your_ merit now, did they?” Laufey asks. “I doubt that you care enough to commit all of your time and effort to it. You didn’t even give a second thought to your own family’s business, after all.”

Loki sighs, tightening his grip on his fork. “As much as you’d love to think otherwise, I actually did. I know that you seem to have trouble counting, Father, but you _do_ have two more sons who are perfectly willing to run your company instead of me. I fail to see the problem here.”

“The problem, you little brat, is that you think you can just pass off Father’s company—the best job you could ever _dream of_ —in favour of, what? Stitching pieces of fabric together and living in an apartment that can barely stay standing in a strong wind?” Helblindi is glaring at Loki, pure rage in his eyes.

“I’m curious,” Loki speaks up, leaning back in his seat, “how much of that you actually believe, and how much of it you’re just saying because you’re in front of Father and desperately want him to pick you to continue running the company once he’s retired?”

Helblindi slams his fist onto the table, making it shake, and rises to his feet. 

“Stop it, all of you,” Byleistr speaks up. “Can we just eat in peace? We rarely get to spend time together as it is. There’s no need to make it so unpleasant.”

They spend the rest of dinner eating in silence. It’s unpleasant all the same; the resentment and bitterness hanging in the air between them is almost palpable. 

When they’re finally done, Loki escapes outside, sitting on the low brick wall that borders the garden as he lights a cigarette. He hates coming here—he doesn’t know why he still bothers. He always manages to convince himself that it’s not so bad to visit home, that perhaps this time won’t be as bad…

“Hey, brother.”

Loki looks up as Byleistr approaches, hands in his pockets. He’s wearing the smile that he reserves just for Loki—both amused and apologetic.

“Hey,” Loki replies, exhaling smoke. He pats the brick beside him. “How are you?”

“Not bad.” Sitting, Byleistr folds his arms. “Any chance I could—”

“I’m not sharing my cigarettes with you,” Loki cuts him off. “This shit kills you.”

Byleistr gives him a wry grin. “Right. I’ll just sit here and get all your second-hand smoke, then. That should be nice and healthy.”

Loki takes another long drag before putting his cigarette out. “There. Are you happy?”

“Ecstatic.”

Byleistr is the only member of the family that Loki actually likes. He’s the middle son, so Loki had taken care of him when Helblindi was getting all of the attention. He also directly benefits from the fact that Loki doesn’t want to inherit their father’s company because it means that he’s next in line. Helblindi, who has never gotten along with Loki, is bitter about potentially missing out because he’s the youngest, so he does his best to impress Laufey. Mostly by putting Loki down.

“How’s your work going?” Byleistr asks, actually sounding interested. “When do I get to tell people that my brother’s got his own label?”

Loki smiles. “Still working on that. I’ll need a lot more exposure before I become famous.”

“You’ll do it.” Byleistr sounds confident. “You’ll show everyone what you’re made of. Father, Helblindi, and everyone else.”

“You have a lot of faith in me.”

“Of course I do. Father said that if you wanted to follow your dreams, he wasn’t going to give you a cent and you _literally_ told him that he could go fuck himself because you were doing what you wanted. Your entire apartment is about the size of your childhood bedroom and you don’t even care because you’re doing what you set out to do. That’s awesome, no matter what anyone else thinks.”

“Thanks,” Loki says, and he means it. He doesn’t need his family’s approval, but it’s still nice to know that Byleistr is on his side. 

To put himself through college, Loki had to work three different jobs at once and survive on as little sleep as possible. He doesn’t really feel that he can complain, though. It was the bartending job that first introduced him to The Thunder. Their first few gigs were on the tiny stage right in the corner of the bar and they performed there every weekend for two months. There wasn’t much motivating Loki to drag himself out of bed after three hours of sleep—if he was even that lucky—but it was worth it for the weekends. For the music that Loki could connect with, for the way Thor would grin at him, skin shining with sweat and voice hoarse as he thanked Loki for the free pints of beer he’d pour for the band.

“Got a boyfriend yet?” Byleistr asks, bringing Loki back to the present. With a lopsided smile, he adds, “You had this look in your eyes, and…”

“No.” Loki shakes his head. “Don’t have the time for that right now.”

“Sure. But when you do…”

“You can meet him, threaten him, and whatever else you want,” Loki intones with a small smile. Byleistr is the only member of the family that Loki’s come out to, and just like he is with everything else, he’s been completely supportive. 

Still, Loki isn’t particularly keen on telling his brother that he’s head over heels in love with someone he’s never even had a proper conversation with, who doesn’t even know he exists.

 _That’s because you are_ not _in love with him_ , he reminds himself sharply.

“Ugh. I need another smoke,” Loki mutters. “I’ll share if it shuts you up.”

“Deal,” Byleistr agrees, with a broad grin, already holding his hand out.

«·»

Loki’s office is one of his favourite places in the entire world. He works for World Heart, a fashion brand that designs clothes that are on the more affordable side of the designer market.

Karnilla, the head designer, is demanding but fair. She connects with every single person that works for her and knows how to push them. Loki likes the way that his work challenges him and makes him learn new techniques. It’s not enough for Loki to launch his own solo career, but it’s a good stepping stone. He’s already much better than some of the other designers he works with, and he will only improve.

His designs here might be limited to the particular aesthetic of Karnilla’s vision, but it’s a good place to meet other people in the industry. Loki knows several photographers who are more than happy to do fashion shoots independently. One of his favourite photographers, Darcy Lewis, is great to collaborate with because they both like the same looks. 

When Darcy had suggested a photoshoot with elemental themes, Loki was all over it. She’d suggested focusing on earth and thunder—Loki had quickly suggested fire and ice instead. One of his favourite things about Darcy is the fact that she’s so flexible. She was more than happy to go with fire and ice instead, and Loki already has countless designs in his sketchbook done in pencil, ink, or watercolour. 

Loki spends his entire day at work on designs and then goes home to do even more. He absolutely adores what he does, and that’s how he’s come so far on his own. 

There’s a message waiting on his phone when he gets home from Darcy, and it’s a request to call her back about their upcoming shoot. Loki calls her back, and she answers on the first ring.

“Loki! Great news, I have the studio booked for our shoot. I booked it for half the day, just to be safe. How many outfits were you thinking of doing?”

“I have… fifteen designs, with a few variations,” Loki replies, checking. “I’ll have to narrow it down. Three fire, three ice?”

“That sounds great! You can have them done in two weeks, right?”

“Two weeks,” Loki repeats, mentally tallying up the outfits he’ll need to put together for work as well. “It’s… possible.”

“Awesome!” Darcy seems to take delight in giving Loki as much work as she can in as little time as possible. He’d hate her for it if it didn’t push him to be so productive. “Well, I should probably leave you to it then, right?”

“Right,” Loki replies with a sigh.

Whenever Loki does shoots outside of work, he uses Amora as his model. No matter what he designs, she pulls it off perfectly because no one understands him better than she does. She knows how to change the very way she carries herself to embody whatever Loki intends to create when he first puts the vague outlines onto the pages of his sketchbook.

His favourite thing about working with Amora is that he knows exactly how to put his outfits together to create the most dramatic effect with her figure. Flicking through his sketchbook, he picks his favourite five outfits for each element and scans them onto his computer, putting them beside each other until he’s decided on the three that work the best.

He already has the material that features the most in his ice-themed designs; a beautiful, light material that shimmers in the light. Loki knows that Darcy is particularly talented at picking the best lighting for her photoshoots and he’s confident that she’ll bring out the silvers in the dresses.

There isn’t a lot of furniture in Loki’s apartment. His bed is a mattress on the floor, right in the corner with a low table beside it. He has a built-in kitchenette, and hasn’t bothered to furnish the rest of the place because he’d rather spend the money on buying more fabric. 

The room that he has set aside for sewing, on the other hand, has everything. He has a table for measuring and cutting, and his fabric is all neatly stored and sorted to make everything easy to find. He has two dress forms with one already set to Amora’s measurements. 

He gets straight to work, layering different fabrics over each other until he’s happy with the way they look. Then, he draws up a pattern and gets started on cutting out the shapes he needs. He drapes the material over his sewing machine, sitting at his table with grid paper and a pencil. He needs to make mock-ups of each dress before he’s completely satisfied and while he enjoys the process, it’s time-consuming.

What he needs, he decides, is some music to work to. There’s an old CD-player that sits right beside his bed and Loki sets it on his sewing table, not even thinking as he grabs his copy of The Thunder’s newest album and puts it on.

It takes Loki approximately six songs and one half-complete dress mock-up to realise that he really shouldn’t have put the CD on. The entire album gives him flashbacks to the concert and while it’s a little distracting, he likes it. Loki finds that he enjoys listening to the songs even more, now that they have the memories of the concert attached to them.

Then track seven comes on.

Track seven of The Thunder’s fourth album is a song called _Me_. It has a heavier rock feel to it than the other songs and it sounds angry. It’s about Thor being sick of putting other people’s interests before his own, and focusing on himself for once. More importantly, Thor’s vocals are all deep and growly, and it turns Loki on more than anything else. 

His hands shake as he tries to pin fabric together and by the time Thor’s reached the second verse, Loki’s given up, cursing under his breath as he scrambles to undo his belt and his fly, pushing his pants down just far enough as he collapses into his chair. He shuts his eyes as he takes hold of his cock, thinking of the way Thor had looked in concert, thinking of the scowl on his face as he’d sung this song. Loki makes a desperate little whine at the back of his throat, his head resting against the back of his chair as he pumps harder. He moves his free hand down to his balls, squeezing and rolling them, gasping loudly as Thor’s voice goes back to growling out the chorus.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Loki moans, coming all over his hand. He slumps back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling. It doesn’t take long for the shame and self-loathing to kick in. 

Zipping himself back up Loki sighs, going to the bathroom to wash his hands clean. He glares at his reflection.

“You’re pathetic. Just so you know,” he tells himself. “What the hell are you, some stupid fanboy?”

It’s exactly what he feels like right now and it makes him feel a sudden rush of resentment for Thor, for reducing him to this. He’s _better_ than this. He doesn’t want to be just another fan who spends all of his time lusting after someone who would never notice him. 

He needs to get back to his work. He needs to change CDs, finish his mock-ups and make sure that he gets all of his clothes done in time for the photoshoot with Darcy. 

Instead, Loki spends a good half hour beforehand trolling the fan forum and posting about how much he absolutely _hates_ Thor and his stupid band.

“Amora,” he slurs into his phone once the forums lose their appeal. He’s already a little drunk from the cheap wine he always keeps on hand. “You need to come over right now. With as much wine as you can carry.”

He adores her for the fact that she doesn’t even ask why. Instead, she just replies, “Give me ten minutes.”

“You’re my favourite,” he tells her once she lets herself in, carrying two more bottles of wine. “I poured you a glass. It’s on the kitchen bench.”

“That’s so kind of you, snowflake.” Amora smiles, picking up the glass and wiping up the spill on the countertop, where Loki had missed.

Amora had started calling Loki _snowflake_ when he was in college, utterly obsessed with his need to be different from everyone else, to be _unique_. It had started as a mocking nickname, but it’s now an endearment, reserved specially for him. He likes it—he’s always had a particular liking for the cold and everything associated with it: snow, frost, ice…

“You should see the dresses I’m working on now,” he decides, getting to his feet.

“Maybe later,” Amora replies, pushing him back down to sit against the wall, sitting down beside him. “Remember our rule about no drinking in the sewing room.”

“Oh.” Loki grimaces at the memory of the one time he’d utterly ruined a sewing project. “Yeah.”

“I’m not going to ask why you’re so upset if you don’t want to talk about it,” Amora tells him, “but I’ll just assume that it has something to do with The Thunder, okay? The last time you called me over to drink and sulk was when they got signed with Sony.”

“Ugh, let’s not talk about that,” Loki mutters. 

The day The Thunder went mainstream had felt like the worst day of Loki’s life and if waking up with a terrible hangover hadn’t been bad enough, he also woke to discover that when he’d meant to write a post about how much he hated the band, he’d ended up writing a rambling, in-depth essay about how much he loved their music and why. Complete with a paragraph dedicated to just how much he liked Thor.

“Please don’t let me drink as much as last time,” Loki begs. “And if I do, please don’t let me near a computer.”

“Oh, snowflake, we really need to get you out more often. Maybe you’ll find a cute boy and—”

“No thank you,” Loki scoffs. “I don’t think I need what you have with _Skurge_.”

Amora sighs. “Skurge and I are… different. We have an understanding.”

“ _You_ have an understanding,” Loki replies. “He just has no better option other than to hang around while you do whatever you want. Whoever you want.”

“We’re talking about you, Loki, not me,” Amora tells him, which is a transparent attempt to change the subject, but Loki lets her get away with it. “More wine?”

“Yes.” Loki holds his wine glass out, resting his head back against the wall as Amora goes to refill it. He’ll never say it aloud, but he’s secretly worried that in any relationship he might find, he’ll end up just like Skurge, in love with someone who barely wants to spend time with him at all.

He’ll gladly take a hopeless crush on a celebrity over anything like that.

«·»

For an entire week, Loki focuses on nothing but his work. He doesn’t go out, he barely invites Amora over, he just goes to work, does what he needs to, then goes home and works on the clothes for the photoshoot. The mock-ups are all finished and by the end of the first week, Loki has all three of the ice-themed dresses ready. He’s touched them up and made sure that everything in absolutely perfect; he’s even designed the jewellery and had one of his jeweller friends put it together for him. The next week should be nice and easy; he’s already got the fire jewellery and the bottom layer of the dress done, he just needs to do the rest.

He decides that he deserves a break. It _is_ a Friday night, after all.

The first page that loads immediately when Loki opens the internet browser on his laptop is The Thunder’s official website. During the past few days that Loki hasn’t given himself time to go online, the band has released a new single that is going to be on the special edition re-release of their latest album, to celebrate the five year anniversary of the band’s forming. Loki backtracks using his calendar and smiles, vaguely remembering that night, watching the band walk into the bar and thinking nothing of them other than to quickly appreciate Thor’s good looks.

The new single is called _Black_ and it’s already been up for two days. Loki purchases it immediately, eagerly watching the download bar. He doesn’t read any of the comment or reviews on it; not until after he’s finished listening to it on his own at least once.

It starts off with just the bass and cello. Then the drumming starts, with the guitars, and Thor starts singing.

Loki is immediately glad that he’s already sitting, because he can feel his knees going weak. Thor’s voice has been husky in songs before, but this feels completely different. It’s like Thor is singing in his bedroom voice and it makes Loki burn up on the inside. He listens to the song once just for the sound of it, and listens to it again for the lyrics.

It’s the sexiest song they’ve ever released. Nothing is actually mentioned outright, but it’s filled with dirty promise. Loki loves it, but at the same time his mind is already racing, wondering if this is a personal song, if Thor is singing it _for_ someone and who. He pauses the song on its third play through and hits the fan forums, where there’s already an entire thread full of speculation. 

Loki logs into one of his other accounts—one he uses for serious discussions—and begins reading through everything that has been posted so far. He isn’t let down; everything that he has thought of has also been mentioned by other members. On the one hand, there’s the fact that the majority of The Thunder’s songs are written in first person, regardless of the content. On the other hand, Thor _has_ admitted to writing personal songs before; one of the songs from their very first album had stuck with Loki for a long time— _Worthy_ , which Thor had written about his father, who never quite seemed to be satisfied with him.

There’s debate back and forth about this, until someone else brings up the question of who the song would be addressed to, if it _was_ something personal. They mention the fact that there is absolutely nothing in the song to even indicate a gender, because Thor had used _you_ in the place of other pronouns. All the description is gender-neutral, but other fans jump in, declaring that the repeated line, _black hair like the night and skin pale as the moon_ , means that it’s about Sif. 

This is shot down by other fans, pointing out that there’s nothing else to prove this claim. In response, there is a link to an article on an entertainment website. Loki clicks it warily, his heart sinking at the headline: _Sparks In The Air: The Thunder Frontman Thor Dating Bassist Sif_.

There are photos from the most recent time the band members were caught in public, with Thor and Sif’s arms linked, with them hugging, and with them grinning at each other, completely oblivious to anything else going on around them. The author of the article also draws parallels between Sif’s appearance and the lyrics of _Black_. There’s even extra speculation about the way Thor and Sif always tend to play their guitars back to back for at least one song at every concert. 

Loki returns to the forum thread, where most people seem convinced that Thor and Sif are in a relationship. Loki can’t stop thinking about it either and the more he thinks about it, the more he manages to convince himself that it’s true.

He doesn’t know why it upsets him so much. It’s ridiculous to be so affected by the events of someone else’s life—especially when he barely even knows them. It doesn’t matter how invested he might be, this intense jealousy just _isn’t acceptable_.

There are already fans on the forum taking out their jealousy and hatred on Sif. Despite the fact that Loki is usually wherever the angry posts are, egging others on, he barely even glances at them this time before closing his browser and turning his laptop off.

There’s work to be done. He still has three dresses to complete and surely, that will take his mind off everything else. He sits in his sewing room, pinning fabric together for the outer layers of the first dress. It’s made of light, gauzy fabric that flutters as it moves, all oranges and reds that mimic dancing flames. He can’t wait to see Amora wearing it and he focuses on that as he pins, shutting everything else out.

It only works for so long. He has all three dresses pinned and ready to be sewn together when he decides that he needs some music to work to. Then he’s right back to thinking about Thor, about Sif, and hating himself for caring so much about it. He hates that he’s no better than all the other fans whining on the forums and feeling utterly heartbroken. 

Well, if he’s going to do this, he decides, he’s not going to do it sober. It’s not something he wants to talk to Amora about either, and the very thought of drinking alone makes him feel even more depressed.

The only real option he has left is to go to a bar. There’s one that’s a twenty minute walk from his place, but it’s the one he used to work at and if that isn’t enough of a reason to avoid it, there’s the fact that he will _always_ associate the place with The Thunder.

There’s a gay bar a little further from home that Amora used to drag him out to on the rare occasion that he had a free night during college. Loki hadn’t really had the time or inclination for any kind of relationship that lasted for longer than a night, but that’s all he really wants right now anyway. 

He doesn’t exactly dressed up for the occasion, because he just can’t bring himself to make the effort. He goes wearing his favourite pair of skinny jeans, a plain t-shirt and a vest on top. He looks at his reflection and decides that it will have to do.

The place is full of people, the music loud—some dance track that is as different from anything by The Thunder as possible. Loki finds a seat by the bar and needs to shout his order to be heard. He scans the crowd as he waits for his drink, his gaze falling on the bigger, muscled men with fair hair and beards. At least his taste in men is _consistent_ , if nothing else, he thinks, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at himself. 

Three drinks later, he’s in somebody’s lap, fingers digging into firm muscle as he whispers into their ear, detailing exactly what he wants to do. The man swears, low and hoarse. His voice isn’t as deep as Thor’s. Loki forces the thought out of his mind, telling himself to focus on the here and now, where the man—Loki never asked for his name—is picking him up and practically dragging him out of the bar and down the street.

“My place is just close by,” he’s murmuring, kissing Loki’s neck. “Gonna fuck you so hard, I swear…”

Loki’s lips curve into a smile as he’s led up a set of stairs, into an apartment. He goes willingly, and as he’s pushed down onto the bed and his bedmate crawls on top of him, he props himself up for a kiss.

 _You’re not Thor_ , he thinks to himself, _but you’ll do_.

«·»

Loki does the exact same thing for the rest of the weekend. He spends the day working on the dresses, not even thinking about anything else until he’s finished with what he’s doing. Then at night, he goes out to find someone new to take him home and fuck him until he can’t think.

He has everything ready for the photoshoot by Sunday afternoon, but he’s exhausted at work on Monday. He’s barely slept at all. He gets home, eats his dinner, and then changes and goes out again.

Loki is neither blind nor stupid. He can see the pattern in the men he goes home with. That doesn’t mean that he has to acknowledge it. All that matters is the way their strong hands hold him down, the scratch of their beards against his skin and the way they sink into him, thrusting in and out until Thor no longer matters, until _nothing_ matters except for getting off.

It keeps going until Thursday night, when Loki comes home from work to find Amora outside the door to his apartment.

“You look like shit,” she tells him, but her eyebrows are drawn together with concern. “You haven’t been answering my calls for almost a _week_ , now. Is everything okay?”

“Absolutely fine,” Loki replies. “I’ve been busy. That’s all.”

“Is that a _hickey_?” Amora asks, pulling the collar of his shirt aside. ”That kind of busy, huh? Who is he?”

Loki lets out a hollow laugh. “ _He_ is whoever catches my interest at the time. And before the pot starts calling the kettle black—”

“This is because of the rumours, isn’t it?” Amora asks, and she knows him so well that he wants to break something. She takes his silence for the confirmation that it is. “I called you as soon as I found out—why do you think I’ve been calling you all week? Let me guess, all the guys you’ve been sleeping with are tall, blond, muscled, bearded…”

“You can stop now,” Loki mutters, unlocking the door to his apartment and ushering her in. “It’s none of your business.”

“Oh snowflake, look at yourself. You look like you haven’t even _slept_ all week and you’re not going to talk about it? I get that you’re upset about Thor dating Sif, but—”

“I didn’t ask for your help or your advice, Amora,” he snaps. “I don’t care if you mean well—I’m dealing with this _my_ way and I don’t need you telling me that I’m doing something _wrong_.”

“Loki, just _look at yourself_. You’re being self-destructive and it doesn’t matter how strongly you might feel about Thor—nobody is worth this.”

“That’s enough,” Loki decides, opening his door and giving Amora a pointed look. “We’re done.”

“Loki—”

“You’ve said what you wanted to say. Now leave.”

Amora doesn’t move for a long moment, but Loki continues to glare at her until she finally gives up, sighing as she leaves.

He locks the door behind her, leaning against it and taking a deep breath. He can feel all the desire to go out tonight quickly bleed away and he wants to hate Amora for it, but once he starts paying attention to how tired he actually feels, he can’t think of anything else. He feels utterly drained, both physically and emotionally. He doesn’t want to do anything but sleep and so he does, not even bothering with dinner first.

He’s out as soon as his head touches the pillow and when he wakes up to his alarm the next morning, it still feels like he hasn’t had nearly enough sleep.

He gets through the day on more coffee than can be healthy. He feels like death by the time he gets home but he stays awake for a while longer, just to see if Amora will call him again.

She doesn’t. No matter how many times he checks his phone, there are no missed calls, no new messages, and it makes Loki even angrier. He’s always been too stubborn to be the first to apologise after a fight and Amora _knows_ that. She loves him despite this fact and knows to work around it. 

Finally giving up after he’s had dinner, Loki decides that he needs more sleep. They have the photoshoot tomorrow and he needs to be awake for that—especially if he’s going to have to get along with Amora on a professional level while they’re still fighting. No matter what, they’re both professionals and know when to put personal matters aside and that thought cheers him slightly as he drifts off to sleep.

His bed feels strangely empty and alien to him after spending the past few days in other men’s beds. He’d been too tired to notice the previous night. Now, it’s all he can think of.

It’s not even the fact that he wants another stranger in bed beside him. He hadn’t cared enough to remember any of their names and as he tries to recall their faces, they all blend together until he can’t tell any of them apart. They all just end up looking like _Thor_ in the end, and that’s when Loki stops trying, pushing the thoughts out of his mind.

Thor stubbornly remains in his mind even when everything else is gone and Loki growls in frustration, hating himself and feeling pathetic all over again as he slides a hand into his pyjama pants, fingers closing around his half-hard cock. He lets himself think all the thoughts that he’s held back all week, all the fantasies where it’s Thor pinning him to the bed, Thor fucking Loki until he’s hoarse from screaming for more. 

He comes harder than he did with any of his partners and he’d feel ashamed if he didn’t feel so damn _good_. Wiping his hand clean on some tissues, he waits until he’s hard once more and does it all over again.

He’s tired and sated. He washes his hands and crawls into bed, getting the best night’s rest he can ever remember.

«·»

Loki is in a good mood when he gets to the photoshoot the next morning. He and Darcy are both excited to get this done after talking about it for so long. She admires the dresses he’s brought and he helps her set up the backdrop and lighting. Jane, the stylist and makeup artist that works with Darcy, has a clear idea of how the shots should be set up.

The only problem is that Amora isn’t there yet. Loki frowns, remembering that she’d mentioned a while back that she was going to be attending a big party. It would explain why she didn’t call the night before, but she would know that they’ve got the photoshoot this morning. Regardless of how hard she parties the night before, Amora has never been late to a photoshoot before.

They’ve been waiting for fifteen minutes and Amora hasn’t replied to any of the messages Loki’s sent her. Darcy and Jane both look worried, but Loki only feels irritated. He doesn’t know whether Amora’s doing this on purpose, but it certainly feels like it. He tries calling her, but she doesn’t pick up.

“Maybe she’s on her way now,” Darcy says optimistically.

Loki isn’t convinced. Neither Darcy nor Jane seem particularly bothered by the delay; they’re both patient, especially when it comes to their work, but Loki is not the same. He waits a while longer before sending Amora another message. 

It’s been half an hour and he’s heard nothing back from her. Growling in frustration, he calls her again—and when she doesn’t pick up, he calls again, and again.

The third time, he finally hears the ringing stop when somebody answers. Without even letting Amora get a word in, Loki begins yelling. “Amora! Where the _fuck_ are you? You were meant to be here an _hour_ ago! We have everything set up and have been sitting around, waiting on you all morning!”

There’s a pause, and then a male voice replies, “Uh… it was Amora, right? She’s here. I was actually just about to—”

“I don’t care what you were _about_ to do,” Loki snaps. The voice does not belong to Skurge, and that only serves to make Loki even angrier after his previous conversation with Amora. “She’s supposed to be at _my_ photoshoot right now. I don’t care who you are, and I don’t care _where_ you are. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll have her here as soon as fucking possible.”

The voice on the other end laughs, sounding genuinely amused. “Alright then. Where is she supposed to be?”

Loki rattles off the address to Darcy’s studio, making it extremely clear that Amora better be here _as soon as possible_ before hanging up.

Darcy and Jane are watching him with wide eyes when he turns back to them. He tries to smile at them, but he’s sure that it only comes out as a grimace because he’s still far too angry for anything else. He runs a hand through his hair and sighs loudly.

“We’ll wait another hour. If she still hasn’t shown up by then, we’ll reschedule for later. There’s no point in wasting any more time than that.”

“Is… everything okay with you and Amora?” Darcy asks warily. 

“Absolutely fine,” Loki replies, in a way that he knows is utterly unconvincing, but at least it ensures there won’t be any further questions. 

To his surprise, it’s only fifteen minutes later that they hear Amora’s heels clicking against the floor as she rushes into the studio. She looks abashed and that, at the very least, makes Loki feel a little better.

Then Loki sees the man trailing behind Amora, hands in his pockets, and his eyes widen in disbelief. 

“You fucked _Tony Stark_?” he asks, looking at Amora. 

Darcy actually squeaks. Jane is frozen in place. Amora gives Loki a small smile in response.

“So you’re Loki Laufeyson,” Tony says, stepping forward to shake his hand. “It’s good to meet you.”

Loki gives Tony a strained smile in response. When they were younger, their fathers had run in the same circles of ridiculously rich cutthroat businessmen. Even then, Loki hadn’t been particularly interested in his father’s company and from what he’d heard, Tony was more interested in spending time at home, working on his machines than he was in going out to all the tedious functions and dinners. They’d managed to pass each other by completely, but there’s still a strange sense of familiarity that comes from their families having known each other, before Tony’s parents had passed away. 

“Likewise,” Loki replies. “…If you’ll excuse me, we have a photoshoot to do.” 

“Not at all. You don’t mind if I stay and watch, do you?” 

Darcy gives Loki a wide-eyed look, apparently incapable of actual words. Luckily, Jane takes over. 

“That would be absolutely fine. Just take a seat. I’d offer you some tea or coffee, but we’re already an hour behind schedule.” Jane then pauses, and Loki can tell she’s mentally kicking herself. “I mean. There’s a kitchen just down that way, if you wanted anything.” 

“Are you ready, Jane?” Amora calls, as she starts changing out of the tight green party dress she’s wearing and letting Loki help her into the first of the ice-themed dresses.

“What the fuck,” Loki whispers, too stunned to actually make it a question. 

Amora smiles at him, “Tony was actually quite curious to meet you. He asked me if the Loki Laufeyson in my phone was the same Loki Laufeyson who decided he wasn’t taking over Frost Marketing. Whatever you said to him over the phone, it apparently made him decide that he likes you. I told him all about how great a designer you are on the way here. You’re welcome.”

Loki blinks in confusion. “I didn’t _say_ anything to him. I spent the entire phone call swearing at him.”

Raising an eyebrow, Amora shrugs. “Whatever works, I guess. Look, we’re good, right? You know, here, have Tony Stark as a peace offering?”

With a quiet laugh, Loki squeezes her shoulder. “Yeah. We’re good. Best peace offering ever, by the way.”

Jane comes over to get started on Amora’s makeup and Loki goes over to check all the lighting with Darcy one more time before they’re ready to go. 

Loki loves doing photoshoots. There’s so much pure creativity going on that it thrills him. Everyone knows exactly what they’re doing and what they want to achieve, and it’s satisfying to see all of their ideas clicking together into something tangible. Amora is so perfectly comfortable in her own skin and it shows in the way she carries herself in whatever she wears. She looks just as beautiful in the dresses as Loki had expected, and seeing her in the makeup and jewellery as well is just amazing. 

Even so, it’s impossible to forget the fact that Tony Stark is watching them work. Both Darcy and Jane are clearly freaking out about it and keep sneaking furtive looks in his direction. Tony looks completely at ease, leaning back in his chair. He’s apparently found the tiny liquor cabinet and poured himself some of the scotch that Loki had left there, to help them deal with the long, tiring days. As far as Loki knows, nobody has actually opened it before Tony, so at least it’s not going to waste. 

The shoot goes for a few hours, with all the changes to Amora’s clothes, hair and makeup. Loki knows from experience that Tony probably doesn’t have the time to just sit around and watch, but he hasn’t moved once. He actually seems interested in what he sees, and that’s a nice little ego boost, if nothing else. Over time, both Darcy and Jane get used to his presence as well, and go back to working like he isn’t even there. Tony keeps to himself, letting them work in peace without any interruptions, and Loki is grateful for that. 

When they’re finally done, Amora changes back into her green dress and removes her makeup as Loki helps Darcy and Jane put all of the equipment away. They’re all happier and much more relaxed than they were in the morning, and as Loki’s making to leave, ready to drive Amora home, Tony takes him by the arm and pulls him to the side.

“Hey, Laufeyson. Could I have a word?” 

Amora raises an eyebrow, but pats Loki’s shoulder, going to wait for him by the door. Loki folds his arms, clearing his throat. “What is it?”

“I just wanted to tell you how impressive your designs are,” Tony tells him. “Amora was talking you up in the car, but I wanted to see how good you were for myself.”

“Oh.” Loki very carefully does not grin like an idiot. “That’s good to hear.”

“Actually, I was wondering. Amora mentioned something about you designing menswear too.”

Loki raises an eyebrow, curious about where this is going, but unwilling to get his hopes up. “I do. I have a portfolio, if you’re interested…”

“Not necessary.” Tony waves a hand in the air dismissively. “You’re good. I like your taste—it’s very… _dramatic_ , and I definitely have an appreciation for standing out.”

“So I’ve noticed,” Loki replies dryly. 

“I want you to design for me. Suits, ties, shirts, whatever. And if my date needs a dress, you can design that, too. What do you think?”

Loki’s heart is already hammering in his chest. He tries his hardest to remain expressionless. “Is this for any particular event…?”

“Oh, I was just thinking,” Tony shrugs. “You know. From here on out. You can be my personal designer. It’ll be great.”

Loki simply stares, words failing him entirely. He doesn’t even know _how_ to respond to a request like that. He opens his mouth, shuts it, and opens it again.

“Well?” Tony asks, and the slant of his smile says that he _knows_ Loki’s struggling for words. 

“Yes.” Loki lets out a small, nervous laugh. “Of course. It would be… I can’t imagine anything that would be better. Definitely. _Yes_.”

“Great.” Tony claps him on the shoulder. “I’m looking forward to working with you then, Loki.”

Loki can only nod mutely. Once he’s out of Tony’s sight, he decides, he’s giving Amora the tightest hug of her life. 

Best peace offering _ever_.

«·»

The moment that Tony starts wearing clothes designed by Loki, people begin taking notice. Tony is frequently the centre of attention in the media, and some of that attention begins to spill over to Loki.

It’s surreal, the way his list of commissions is short one day and then explodes the moment Loki is credited for the suit that Tony is wearing to a charity ball. Loki limits himself to only taking as many as he can handle at one time, on top of work and his own personal projects.

He’s even being recognized for his unique style; everything is made with a close attention to detail, from the texture of the material to the way it’s stitched together. Loki finds fashion blogs discussing Tony’s new look and regardless of whether or not they actually like the style, every single one of them acknowledges that it’s much more attention-grabbing than before. 

Tony is clearly happy and just like that, Loki finds himself being pulled into the celebrity life. He’s invited to all of Tony’s parties, meeting so many people that he can’t actually keep track of which name goes with which face. It’s busy, and a little stressful, but he absolutely loves it and can’t think of anywhere else he’d rather be.

His colleagues at work are, unsurprisingly, a little jealous. The ones that he gets along with are proud and supportive of him, but some of the others barely hold their resentment back. The worst part is the fact that Karnilla is one of them. Despite her many years in the fashion industry, and despite the fact that she is credited with most of the designs used by World Heart, she’s never had a high-profile client like Tony Stark. 

It was pure luck that Tony even took notice of Loki, and he knows that. He’s grateful for it, but when Karnilla begins repeatedly pointing this out to him, he can tell that it’s time to leave. He gets paid well enough by Tony anyway, and he has plenty of other people lining up to commission him. 

He’s only just quit his job when Byleistr calls him. “So, when were you going to mention that you’re making Tony Stark’s clothes, now?”

Loki grins at his phone. “I was waiting for word to reach you. I wanted to see how long it would take.”

“Stark was at a function last night. He was talking to Father and he said—and I quote— _I’m in your son’s pants right now_.”

Loki bursts into laughter. “Oh, he would. I wish I could have seen Father’s reaction.”

“He was at a complete loss for words,” Byleistr sounds incredibly amused as well. “He refused to talk about you, but Stark kept pushing. He… does know that you and Father don’t get along, right?”

“Of course he does. Why else do you think he was pushing?”

Byleistr sighs. “The two of you are exactly the same. No wonder you get along.”

They continue talking for longer—Loki talks about quitting his job to focus on his own designs, and Byleistr talks about Helblindi’s latest attempts to win Laufey’s favour. 

It’s been a while since they’ve just spoken like this and Loki enjoys it. They talk until they both need to return to their work, and then Loki gets started on the latest dress he’s making for one of Tony’s high-class friends. He wants to get as much of it done as possible before Amora comes over for dinner.

Since Loki started working for Tony, he hasn’t really had the time or inclination to go back to the bars. He doesn’t need someone else to take his mind off things, and his thoughts of Thor are fleeting now, in between work, no longer accompanied by self-loathing.

There’s also the fact that Thor and Sif have dispelled the rumours about them being together. They’re friends, Sif has said, they’re very _good_ friends, but that’s all they’ll ever be. Loki would feel embarrassed for reacting so badly to a rumour that didn’t even end up being true, but he doesn’t really have the time to dwell on that either. The thought of Thor being single still makes Loki’s heart pound and fills his head with countless fantasies, but there’s work to be done, and that comes before anything else. 

Besides, he only just received news earlier that day of a new project that he’s excited about, and he’s looking forward to getting started on that. 

Amora comes over later that night with a bag of takeaway from their favourite restaurant, and a bottle of champagne. 

Loki sighs as she hugs him tightly. “So I take it that you’ve already heard. I wanted to surprise you.”

“People talk,” Amora tells him, kissing his cheek, “but I want to hear it from you anyway.”

“Tony is doing a photoshoot for GQ. And insisted that he wear something made by me.” Loki can’t keep the grin off his face, and neither can Amora.

She hugs him again, even tighter this time. “I’m so excited for you. Just imagine all the exposure you’ll get!”

“It should be enough for me to actually launch my own brand, instead of just doing commissions,” Loki says, and it’s the first time he’s actually vocalized the thought. It takes him a moment to collect himself. “I’ve been waiting for this for _such_ a long time.”

The weeks leading up to the GQ photoshoot go quicker than Loki can imagine. He has four different suits made and Tony looks absolutely regal in them, and they match his personality perfectly.

It’s intimidating to work with so many high-profile professionals, but Loki reminds himself that he’s here on his own merit. He’s here because his designs are good enough to get him noticed. This isn’t about luck any more, it’s about talent, and Loki knows that he has plenty of that.

He goes to lunch with Tony after the photoshoot. Tony’s incredibly patient assistant calls him to remind him that he has two meetings in the afternoon.

“I know that, Pepper,” Tony replies as he looks through the menu. “I also know that you’ll do _great_ and if you have any questions, you won’t have to call me. You can figure out the answers on your own. I’ve just spent the past couple of hours in front of cameras—no, it doesn’t matter how much I might _like_ it, I still need some time to recover. Like, the rest of the afternoon. Good, great, I’m glad we agree, I’ll talk to you later.”

Loki raises an eyebrow as Tony hangs up. “You know, if Ms. Potts calls _me_ to try and convince _you_ to get back to work, I’m making _you_ answer the phone.”

“Neither of us will have to answer it. We’ll be fine.”

“Until you get back to the office, anyway,” Loki points out, and then adds, “tomorrow.”

Tony grins, flagging down a waitress and ordering for them. He waits for their drinks to arrive before asking, “How do you feel about New York Fashion Week?”

Loki nearly chokes on his mouthful of wine. “I’m not even sure whether or not I want you to be joking.”

“Think about it. You get your brand set up now, get your name out there even more, and then do a show.”

“I already think about it a lot,” Loki admits. “I would need time to come up with a complete range, and I don’t exactly have the money to do a show just yet.”

Tony gives him a small wave. “Hi. That’s what I’m here for. I can’t put any of the company’s money towards your line because it’s not actually related to what we do, but think about it this way. You design most of what I wear. When people mention you, they mention me. Your success is relevant to my interests.”

“It’s not like _you_ need the exposure.”

Tony shrugs. “When I first heard about you, as Laufey Frost’s black sheep son, I kind of wished that I’d gotten the chance to meet you. Your dad didn’t give a crap about you unless you were doing something _he_ wanted. I knew what that felt like. He asked you to jump through hoops for him and you said, _fuck you, I’m doing something more interesting_. I honestly don’t care how much it costs. I want to see you stick it to your old man, the way I never really got to with mine. You’ve got the talent for New York Fashion Week. If your dad didn’t cut you off, you would have gotten there already. I just really, really want to see his face when he realizes he doesn’t actually call the shots.”

Loki laughs quietly. “Let me guess. Frost Marketing is trying to give Stark Industries a hard time.”

“Started right after I told your dad that you’re designing for me. He made it personal. I just want to teach him a lesson about picking fights with the wrong people. I help you, you help me prove a point. We both win.”

Loki grins. “So, New York Fashion Week.” 

“Next year. What do you think?”

“That sounds absolutely perfect to me.”

«·»

It takes a while for things to settle down once Loki launches _Liesmith_ , his own brand, complete with an online store. He does fewer commissions as he focuses on getting the basics designed for his store. He makes everything himself, so there are only a few items available at a time, but they sell out so quickly that Loki is both amazed and pleased, having to pick up his pace.

He spends the majority of his time making more stock for his store, and does a small, start-of-season show just to get himself used to the atmosphere. Tony is supportive as ever and after half a year, Loki finally feels satisfied that he’s established a name for himself. 

He doesn’t spend nearly as much time on The Thunder’s fan forums, but he still follows the band closely. With his life finally going in the direction he wants, Loki no longer feels that he has as much to prove. He doesn’t feel that he should be ashamed for liking the music he likes, or the people he likes. 

When The Thunder releases a new album, Loki doesn’t even care that he’s the first person in his local record store to buy it. He invites Amora over for dinner and cooks their food as he listens to the songs. He can hear the way the band’s sound has improved and matured over the years. It’s resulted in the subtle changes in their style, something that Loki used to complain about to anybody who would listen.

The thing is, he’s changed over the years too, and he’s lucky enough that The Thunder continues to feel relevant to him, to his life and his state of mind. The new songs are no longer about sticking up for what you want and about other people’s expectations—they’re about meeting your own expectations, about being happy with where you are. Of course, there are still songs about wanting more, and about being better than others. Loki likes those, too.

And then there’s _Trickster_. It’s pure frustration, in the form of a song. It’s about wanting something, or _someone_ , who is always just out of reach, there one moment and gone the next. It _has_ to be a personal song, from the way Thor is singing it, and it makes Loki wonder what he’s actually singing about. He could go on the forums to speculate with the other fans, but Loki doesn’t really want to. He continues cooking, listening to the rest of the album, until Amora arrives.

“Oh, that smells good,” Amora comments as soon as she’s through the door. Then she adds, “Are you actually listening to The Thunder without pretending you hate them?”

“Surprising, I know,” Loki replies.

“Maybe you’re actually growing up, snowflake. Imagine that.”

Loki pulls a face. “I love you too. Get the plates out for me so we can start eating. I’m hungry.”

Loki doesn’t bother turning the album off as they eat, and it starts all over again. He likes the songs even better the second time and he taps his fingers against his glass in time to the beat.

Amora notices, and smiles at him. “You know, you’ve changed since you started working for Tony. In a good way.”

“Really?” Loki asks, looking up at her. “How so?”

“Just look at yourself—you’re so much more confident now. You seem… happier. I like this new you.”

“Well, that’s good to hear.” Loki smiles. “Do you like the new me enough to go to The Thunder’s next concert? Tickets go on sale at the end of this week.”

Amora laughs. “Do you still need to ask? I’ve been to every single other concert with you. Someone needs to hold you together and make sure you don’t swoon.”

Loki elbows her. “I would never.”

“Would you like to bet on that? If you lose, you have to design me a new pair of shoes and get them made for me.”

“I would do that anyway, if you asked.”

“But this way, they will be shoes that I have _won_. That will make them even better.”

“ _If_ you win,” Loki points out.

“Oh, I will. I know you, snowflake. I will have my victory shoes.”

It’s a strange thing to have to promise himself, but Loki decides that no matter what, he will _not_ swoon over Thor. Ever again. It’s a pride thing.

When it’s actually time for the concert, Amora has to go to a re-scheduled photoshoot at the last minute and can no longer go with him. He doesn’t particularly want to go with anyone else, so he goes alone. 

It’s boring to line up for so long by himself, but it’s worth it when he’s in the first row just like always, right in front of the middle of the stage.

He’s patient throughout the opening act. The Thunder always has small hipster bands opening for them at every concert, as a throwback to their origins. They’re genuinely good bands—it’s how Loki has found some of the other bands that he likes—but he’s sure that he would appreciate them better if he wasn’t just waiting for them to get off the stage so it’s time for The Thunder.

Then finally, with the bang of drums and flash of lights, they’re up on stage. Thor is as gorgeous as ever in his loose jeans and the red button-up over a white tank. His hair is tied back into a ponytail and Loki clings to the barricade in front of him as the fans around him scream.

Fandral is actually just as popular with the fans, though he’s never really appealed to Loki. He isn’t nearly as big, and doesn’t have the same tremendous arms that could _break_ someone, but that’s one of the things Loki likes about Thor.

They start on their first song immediately—one of the tracks from their newest album. The crowd around Loki is already closely packed and stuffy, but he doesn’t really care. From this close, Loki can look up and see the way the light shines off Thor’s skin. 

The first song ends and the entire concert hall explodes with applause. The Thunder has become even more popular with their second album with Sony and tickets for this concert had sold out within a week. Loki doesn’t really know why he feels _proud_ , but he does. He supposes it’s good to see how the band has grown and it’s satisfying to know that he’s been supporting them every step of the way.

Sometime towards the end of the concert, Thor’s gaze falls on him. He doesn’t stop singing or playing his guitar, but he doesn’t look away from Loki for a long moment. In the break between songs, Thor leans over to Fandral and mutters something to him. Fandral then passes it on to the rest of the band and they all nod at each other before Thor steps back up to the microphone stand.

“The next one,” Thor announces, looking out at the crowd, “is _Black_.”

Loki’s heart sinks. He’s completely over all the rumours about Thor and Sif, but he still associates the song with all the despair he’d felt the first time. He’d been hoping that they wouldn’t play the song at all. With a sigh, he steels himself and looks back up at the stage. Thor has a tight grip on his guitar and Loki would say he looks nervous, if it wasn’t so unlike him. The opening music starts and then with a breath, Thor begins to sing.

Loki sucks in a shaky breath. He hasn’t heard this song in a long time and he forgot just how good it sounds. Thor’s voice has heat pooling in Loki’s stomach and if that isn’t enough, Thor is looking right at him.

There’s an intensity in Thor’s eyes and Loki cannot look away. He’s rooted to the spot, holding tightly onto the barrier as Thor sings right at him, and isn’t _that_ a thought? Thor, singing this song, to Loki—it’s enough to have Loki swearing under his breath. Thor grins, launching into the very last chorus, and Loki can’t believe that Thor just spent the _entire_ song staring right at him.

It leaves Loki feeling weak in the knees and harder than he’s ever been in his life. The blood is pounding in his head and he can’t even concentrate for the next few songs. Thor looks at him one last time before turning his attention to the rest of the audience. Loki supposes it’s only fair, and he’d probably care a lot more if he could actually _think_ . He misses Amora. He wishes she was here—it might have been a joke at the time, but he really does need her to hold him together right now.

His head swims and his skin feels absolutely electric. By the time the concert’s over, Loki is already buzzing. He’s still not over _Black_ and he doesn’t think he ever will be. He leaves the concert hall, going straight home, and the moment he has the door shut behind him, he’s pulling his pants down just far enough to free his cock.

He cries out in relief as he wraps his fingers around himself, pumping as he replays the concert, remembering the look in Thor’s eyes. He imagines Thor watching him _now_ and that’s all he needs to have him coming hard, biting his fist to muffle his moan.

He slumps against the door, his chest heaving as he catches his breath. He heads straight for the shower, cleaning all the sweat and grime from the concert off his skin. He jerks off again, still worked up, and by the time he’s done, he’s tired and happy and ready to go to bed.

His phone rings just as he’s crawling under the covers and it’s Amora. He answers, bringing it to his ear and greeting her with, “You will _not_ believe what happened tonight.”

“I _was_ calling to ask how the concert went,” she replies, amused. “Go on, then.”

“You know that song, _Black_? With all the rumours and everything?”

“Of course I do.”

“Well.” Loki smiles. “The entire time he was singing it, Thor was looking at me.”

“The entire time?” Amora asks. “For the three or four minutes the song goes for? He was eyefucking you?”

“He wasn’t…”

“He was looking at you while singing the dirtiest lyrics he’s ever written. If that’s not _eyefucking_ , I don’t know what is.” Then, after a pause, Amora asks, “Wait, where are you right now?”

“Home, why…?”

“You went _home_? After Thor sang a song about just how badly he wants someone? _To you_? Put those together, snowflake. What does it all add up to?”

Loki is silent for a moment. “No, that can’t be right.”

“Yes it _is_. See, this is why you need me with you. So you have someone to make you realize that the rockstar you’ve been crushing over wants to _fuck you_. I can’t believe your first reaction was to _go home_. Really, Loki.”

“But why would Thor…” Loki’s mind reels. “That can’t be right.”

“Lets be honest, here. You _know_ you’re good-looking. Of course Thor would notice, when he sees you. Besides, he apparently has consistent tastes in people, if _Black_ is anything to go by. Maybe he just wanted…”

“No,” Loki murmurs, shaking his head. “I don’t want that. I don’t want to be just another fan that warms his bed for a night. Even if I could change things so I stayed at the concert instead of coming home… I wouldn’t. I’d rather have nothing, than not have _enough_.”

Amora sighs quietly. “If that’s what makes you happy.”

“It is,” Loki decides, curling onto his side in his bed.

“You realise,” Amora points out, “That if you keep going like this, you’re not going to be happy with anyone who _isn’t_ Thor. And when it comes to Thor…”

“I know I have no chance,” Loki replies, “but I don’t mind that either. I have work to focus on. I don’t really need anyone right now.”

“I’m glad to hear it, snowflake. You sound tired. Good night.”

“’Night,” he murmurs, hanging up.

Tired as he is, he doesn’t sleep just yet, with his mind filled with thoughts of Thor. He knows that just a few months ago, he would have gladly gone home with Thor for one night, given the chance, not thinking of the rest of the time he would spend wanting what he could only have once.

This new, mature version of himself is definitely strange, but Loki supposes that he’s not all that bad.

«·»

The more popular Loki becomes, the more demand there is for his clothing. _Liesmith_ grows steadily and Loki reaches the point where he can no longer keep up with the orders on his own. He begins to hire others to make his clothes for him—he doesn’t like the idea of not being directly involved in the process, but he keeps a close eye on everything that happens to make sure that he’s satisfied with the quality of each garment.

It frees him up to do more actual designing, and that means that his range can grow. He begins making accessories—scarves, belts, shoes—and it still feels surreal that he has the opportunity to do these things at all, when he never thought that he would. 

Things only become even more amazing when Tony approaches him with his chequebook.

“So, New York Fashion Week. How much does it cost to register?”

Pepper is already prepared with the figures before Loki can answer. It’s ridiculously expensive, and Tony doesn’t even blink as he writes out a cheque and hands it to Loki.

“You can take care of the details, right?”

Loki nods hastily. “Right. Thank you for this. I mean it.”

Tony grins at him. “Don’t disappoint me, Laufeyson. No pressure, or anything.”

“Of course not,” Loki replies wryly. “It’s just Fashion Week. No big deal.”

“You’ll do great,” Tony claps his shoulder confidently.

“You’ll be _busy_ ,” Pepper adds, handing Loki a sheet of paper. “Stark Industries may not be directly involved, but the success of _Liesmith_ will reflect on Mr. Stark which, in turn, will affect the company regardless of anything else. I’ve taken the liberty of writing out a few suggestions for how to make sure everything is prepared beforehand so you’ll have fewer things to worry about.”

Loki accepts it, reading through it with wonder. “How did you even…”

“She’s magical,” Tony declares. “Possibly not human.”

“There are rumours,” Pepper says, “that I’m an android that you built.”

“You don’t let me get away with enough to be something I made.”

“True. Speaking of which,” Pepper consults her planner, “you have a meeting that you are _going_ to be on time for, and it starts in an hour. Let’s go.”

“See?” Tony asks, grimacing at Loki. “I’ll talk to you later. Remember, you’ll be there to blow everyone else out of the water with your superiority. The bigger and shinier, the better.”

Loki smirks. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you.”

The thing is, Loki has had his dream line-up of designs in his head _forever_. Since he first wanted to become a serious fashion designer, he’s fantasised about the collection he’d show at one of the big Fashion Weeks. It’s changed a lot over the years, of course, but it means that he has a good idea of where to start. 

He spends a week in the studio he’s renting out designing for _Liesmith_ , working with coloured pencils and watercolour to get the ideas out of his head and onto paper. He wants this collection to be all about _him_ , to showcase who he is and what he’s good at. He keeps the colour scheme limited blacks and greys, golds and greens, so that he can focus on bringing out the details of each piece of clothing. 

He’ll start off small and subtle, and get bigger and bolder with each subsequent outfit. He already knows that he wants Amora wearing the very last piece and he is looking forward to designing it, but he’s saving the best for last. There are many more outfits that he’ll need to design first, so he gets to work on those.

He’s aiming to have twenty five complete outfits and he knows that’s going to mean a lot of work and not much else. He’s lucky that he has Amora. All throughout college, she made sure that he was eating and sleeping and she does the same again without even having to be asked. She takes Loki’s spare key and drops by as often as she can to give him company and support. When she doesn’t find him at the apartment, she goes to the studio instead, picking up some takeaway for both of them. Sometimes, Skurge comes along as well so he can spend time with Amora. 

As uncomfortable as Loki feels with Skurge showering Amora with affection to have none of it returned, it’s nice to have a fresh pair of eyes to look at his work and give him feedback. He’s known Skurge for almost as long as he’s known Amora and although they are nowhere near as close, they get along well, even if Loki mostly just pities him.

“You know you deserve better than her,” he tells Skurge one afternoon, when Amora has gone out to meet up with some of her other friends.

“I thought you were meant to be Amora’s best friend.” Skurge doesn’t sound particularly offended, or surprised.

“I am. That’s why I can tell you that you deserve better.”

Skurge shrugs. “I probably do. But that doesn’t mean I’ll _get_ better. Amora is… free to do what she wants and I’ll look the other way, but at the end of the day, it’s me that she returns to. And even if she doesn’t love me, that still counts for something.”

“How can you be happy with that?” Loki mutters, not looking up from the mock-up he’s sewing together. 

“Why do you refuse to date anyone while you’re in love with the lead singer of that band?” Skurge returns.

Loki’s face heats. “I can’t believe Amora told you about that.”

“She didn’t. She… ignores me at home sometimes. Perhaps she genuinely forgets I’m there. I hear a lot of her phone conversations, even when I’m trying not to. Even when I _don’t_ want to.”

Loki grimaces, knowing the conversations that Amora has with some of her other lovers. “I see.”

“Perhaps we aren’t making _wise_ decisions, but we’re still doing what we feel is right. What more can we do but that?”

This time, Loki _does_ look up from his work. Skurge gives him a small shrug and a smile without any real mirth to it.

“I couldn’t do it forever,” Loki sighs. “No matter how much I might like Thor _now_ , I am not spending the rest of my life telling myself that this is enough—this one-sided crush while I don’t even exist to him at all. Eventually, I will need something more. I will find someone else.”

“You prefer being the centre of attention,” Skurge tells him. “You need someone who will notice you. I don’t. I suppose that’s where we differ.”

“I suppose,” Loki replies, frowning as he returns to work. He can’t imagine caring about anyone else as much as he cares about Thor, ridiculous as that might be. Loki is not the type to care about many people at all but when he does, it’s with an intensity that cannot be held back. Perhaps there will be someone else. Perhaps there won’t be. Right now, Loki doesn’t mind either way. For now, he pushes all of it out of his mind, and gets back to his clothes.

«·»

Before he knows it, there’s only a week left until the show begins. Loki feels like he hasn’t slept properly for _months_ , but everything is finally ready.

He has his outfits done, and twenty five different models to display them. He’s met them all, and has sorted out which model is wearing what. He’s met with the makeup artists and hair stylists several times, and they’ve sorted out all the looks, with Jane’s input. 

While waiting for it all to begin, Loki meets some of the other designers and there’s one that he likes in particular—Steve—whose designs are very heavily inspired by military uniforms from the forties. Loki and Steve are targeting entirely different parts of the fashion market, and perhaps that’s why they get along so well.

It doesn’t hurt that Bruce, Steve’s photographer and good friend, knows Tony from previous photoshoots they’ve done together. Tony gets along with Bruce extremely well whenever Tony drops by to escape his work using the excuse of checking in on Loki. 

Tony’s also taken a liking to needling Steve at every opportunity he gets and Loki, who can admit that he is extremely similar to Tony in several different ways, knows that this really means that he’s taken a liking to _Steve_.

There’s a lot that Loki owes Tony and he doubts that he can make up for _everything_ , but at the very least, he can come up with excuses to leave him alone with Steve. Bruce catches on quickly and starts doing the same. 

Darcy and Jane happily accept Bruce into the small group they’ve formed of photographers and stylists. Loki leaves them be; he still has last-minute checks and rehearsals to do with his models. 

Amora, of course, remains his favourite. She gets the best dress, the best makeup and the best hair, and Loki is not afraid to admit that he is incredibly biased towards her. There are two other models that he’s taken quite a liking to as well; Clint and Natasha have been modelling for years and they work wonderfully together. Loki is saving them for second last—he has a pair of outfits that make a matching set, leading up to the grand finale.

There are several people—customers, journalists, even fellow designers—who are all eager to see Loki’s new range, and he can’t wait to show it all off. He can’t wait to see _his_ clothes up on the catwalk, to have people from all around the world looking at _his_ designs.

It’s a little dizzying and the remaining week passes both too quickly and too slowly for his liking. He can barely eat, barely sleep, and Amora spends more time in his hotel room than her own, making sure that he’s had enough of both so that he won’t fall over during the day.

Then, finally, it’s time. There are crowds of people in every direction that Loki turns, all of them walking with purpose, ready to go to all the different tents. He only glimpses them briefly before going backstage, where he immediately gets to work, making sure that everything is absolutely _perfect_. All the clothes need to sit just right, the makeup needs to be dramatic without going too far—

“Loki,” Amora sighs, grabbing him by the shoulders. “Everything will be absolutely fine. I promise you. Now, help me into this.”

Loki’s hands shake as he does the dress up, careful of all the layers. It fits her perfectly, the way it was made to.

“I’m going to cry, or throw up,” he declares. “I can’t tell which.”

“You wouldn’t dare throw up near your precious clothes,” Amora tells him. “And if you cry, I’m going to cry and I’m _just_ about to get my makeup done, so you’d better not.”

Sucking in a deep breath, Loki looks over at Clint and Natasha, already prepared for the catwalk, standing beside each other and looking completely at ease. “I don’t know how they can manage to remain so calm.”

“Oh, don’t compare yourself to them,” Amora shakes her head. “They’re practically _legends_ in the modelling world. Nothing phases them.”

Clint looks in her direction, quirking a grin. “It’s all about having the right training. You do enough of these and they stop being so big and scary. You’ll do fine, anyway. Both of you.”

“Here comes Stark,” Natasha speaks up, looking at the entrance.

Sure enough, Tony walks up to Loki’s side, patting him on the back. “You better be grateful for the fact that I actually showed up _early_ for something.”

“Oh, yes,” Loki looks pointedly around the room, and then lets his gaze settle on the far end of the tent, where Steve is getting his models ready for his own show. “So very selfless of you.”

Clearing his throat, Tony adjusts his tie. “What was the schedule, again?”

“Rogers’ show is an hour after mine. You can go and… do whatever you like after my show. You might want to wait until after _he’s_ done, though. I don’t imagine he’ll pay you much attention before and we can’t have _that_ , now.”

“Well you’re perfectly happy to give me _your_ attention.”

“Only so he doesn’t spend all of his time freaking out,” Amora chimes in, from where she’s getting her hair done.

“ _Wow_ ,” Tony breathes, noticing her for the first time.

“Flattering, but don’t get distracted now.” Amora points in Steve’s direction. “Loki is far too invested in this. I have no idea why. You’re clearly terrible for poor Steve. He won’t know what to do with you.”

“That’s okay,” Tony replies brightly. “I have _plenty_ of ideas for what to do with him.”

“You’ll need to get past Barnes,” Natasha tells him. She nods in Amora’s direction. “He’s to Rogers what she is to Loki. Except even more protective.”

“You really don’t want to give him a challenge, on top of everything else,” Loki mutters, but Tony’s already considering Steve as he chats with his models, Bucky standing right beside him.

“Romanov, I have a mission for you. Details later.” Tony already looks distracted. He waves in Loki’s direction. “I have plans to make. I’ll leave you to your work. Catch up with you later.”

“He’s going to ask me to be a distraction,” Natasha mutters, once Tony’s gone.

“You really shouldn’t have told him—”

“Oh, no. It’s okay,” Clint assures Loki. “Nat knew exactly what she was doing.”

Natasha might be smiling. Loki can’t tell, but his respect for her increases tenfold. He always appreciates sneakiness.

Then, he doesn’t have time to think about it any more because his show is finally starting. He has an experienced stylist there to help him, as well as Jane, but Loki can’t help the way his palms sweat.

He hears the opening bars of the first song he’s chosen for his show and grins. It is, of course, a song by The Thunder. It’s called _Eyes On Me_ and it’s one of their older tracks, from back when they were barely known. Loki’s chosen all the songs for his show and timed them all perfectly. The first couple of models are wearing clothes that are understated, even though they are still exquisitely detailed. With each subsequent model, the designs become bigger and more attention-grabbing. The show lasts for three entire songs, and the beginning of a fourth. After _Eyes On Me_ , Loki has chosen two songs by other bands, with good, loud beats. Then, just before Clint and Natasha come out together, _Trickster_ begins playing. He’s planned it to make sure that they walk the length of the catwalk and are walking back just as Amora reaches the very end of the catwalk and Thor sings the line, _you rule my entire universe_.

Clint and Natasha’s outfits are attention-grabbing—high collars and stiff layers that give the clothes a sharp, angular look that both of them pull off extremely well. 

Amora, however, looks like she could be the actual queen of the universe. Her dress is black, grey and green and hugs her body from her bust down to her knees; and then it flares out, with layers of light material that makes it seem like she’s walking on smoke. Her blonde hair is piled on top of her head, with silver threaded through it and curling strands snaking their way down to meet the high collar that flares out around her neck.

She has just the right expression: fierce and commanding. She holds it until she’s backstage, flashing a bright grin at Loki before going back out onto the catwalk with all of the other models.

Loki is flying high for the rest of the day. There’s still a photoshoot to be done, and people asking him for interviews. He doesn’t have the time to collect himself until the afternoon, when Tony finds him, rescuing him from a group of fashion bloggers all trying to schedule interviews with him at once.

“Amora told me you probably haven’t eaten yet,” Tony says, pulling him through the crowd and past the long tine for the taxis. There’s a black limousine waiting by the curb. “There’s food in there. Jarvis will take you back to your hotel. Rest. Relax. Get ready. Afterparty at my mansion, starts at eight. Jarvis will pick you up.”

“What—?”

“Trust me,” Tony tells him, bundling Loki into the car. “I have a great idea, and you’ll want to be there. I already made Amora promise that you’d be there. You’re the guest of honour, by the way. You know, seeing as it’s your show that no one can stop talking about. See you later.”

“What—” Loki begins again, but Tony’s already closed the door, and Jarvis has started driving.

 _Oh well_ , Loki thinks, sinking back into the soft, leather seats. He might not have any idea what’s going on, but at least this is nice. Besides, he really does need the time to get some rest. Possibly for the next several days, but he’ll take what he can get.

«·»

Of course, when Tony Stark does things, he does them on a large scale. His mansion is absolutely packed full of party guests, with plenty more out on the grounds.

Jarvis leads Loki and Amora through the crowd and into the house, where Tony is surrounded by models and designers, a glass of scotch in his hand as he talks. 

“Here he is!” Tony declares, puling Loki closer and grinning broadly. “The man of the hour. Feeling any better?”

“ _Much_ better,” Loki replies with a smile. He nods politely at all the other people there, but Tony holds him in place while they all greet him. They’re all so full of praise for his work that soon, Tony doesn’t even need to _try_ to keep him there. The crowd is finally beginning to part when Loki sees Steve wandering in, with Bucky by his side.

“ _Oh_.” Loki raises an eyebrow at Tony. “So that’s why you held the party, is it?”

“Two birds, one stone. You know how it is.”

“Bucky looks intimidating,” Amora observes, resting her hand on Loki’s shoulder. “You have no chance of approaching Steve with Bucky right beside him.”

Loki sighs, holding Tony back by his suit jacket. “You’re just provoking him for the fun of it, now.”

“It’s okay.” Tony sounds confident. “I have a plan.”

Natasha suddenly turns up from out of nowhere, her long, red hair tired up into a bun, wearing a simple black dress that looks devastatingly good on her. She purposefully strides past Steve and Bucky, her head turning just slightly in their direction, her plump red lips curving into a smile before she continues walking across the room, to where Clint is standing.

“Doesn’t that give Barnes the wrong message?” Loki asks, frowning.

“Wait for it,” Amora tells him, sounding amused.

A couple of seconds later, Bucky’s turning to Steve, who waves him off with a quiet laugh.

“There we go.” Tony grins at Loki. “But before I leave you to the wolves—there’s someone you should probably meet.”

“Oh?” Loki raises an eyebrow and Amora is smiling at him, but she doesn’t explain.

Tony gestures to someone behind Loki. Turning with a small frown, Loki freezes up when he sees who it is.

“This guy’s a friend of mine,” Tony says, casual as ever, but the quirk to his lips says that he knows _exactly_ what he’s doing. “Loki, meet Thor. Thor, this is Loki. Have fun.”

With that, Tony’s gone. Squeezing Loki’s arm, Amora smiles. “That’s my cue, too. See you later, snowflake.”

Loki doesn’t know what to do or what to say. This is _Thor Odinson_ , standing right in front of him, looking ridiculously beautiful in a casual suit, with a charcoal grey jacket and pants and a light blue shirt underneath without a tie. The top two buttons have been left undone, and his hair is tied back. His eyes are even bluer up close. Loki can’t make a sound.

Thor is looking at him in wide-eyed disbelief as well, his lips just slightly parted like he’s trying to find something to say. 

Finally, Thor clears his throat and says, “I saw your show. I… liked your designs. And your choice in music.”

Loki laughs quietly, and wishes the floor would suddenly open up and swallow him whole. He is, by no means, a shy person, but this is Thor. Thor is talking to _him_ and Loki has to resist the urge to pinch himself to check if he’s dreaming.

“Thank you,” he manages to say. “I’m… a big fan of your band.”

“Yes.” Thor laughs, deep and warm. “I thought you might be.”

There’s a waiter walking past, and Loki grabs two wine glasses, offering one to Thor. “Drink?”

“Thank you.” Thor takes it and his fingers brush against Loki’s, soft and warm. “Would you… like to go outside? It’s a little warm in here.”

“Of course.”

There’s a relatively quiet corner of the garden and Thor leads the way there, taking a seat on the wooden bench just beside a small pond. He keeps his eyes on Loki, and there’s a small smile on his lips. Loki’s wine glass is almost empty already. He’s going to need a lot more to drink if he’s going to be relaxed enough to talk to Thor.

Luckily for him, another waiter comes by and Thor flags him down this time, taking two glasses of—Loki doesn’t even know what. All he knows is that there’s vodka in it and that’s all the information he needs. He means to sip his drink slowly, but when Thor knocks his own back, Loki does the same.

It burns its way down his throat. He feels the warmth spread through his body and lets out a sigh, settling back against the bench. 

“So,” Thor murmurs, turning to him. “I remember hearing that you come from a rich family, and that your father didn’t really approve of your choice to pursue fashion design.”

“Much like yourself,” Loki replies. Perhaps he’ll hold Thor’s attention for longer if he makes everything about _him_.

Thor, however, does not seem to want that at all. He brings the focus right back to Loki, smiling as he says, “It’s satisfying to succeed anyway, isn’t it? You’ve proven yourself in such a way that nobody else can doubt your talent.”

“Is that how you felt when you had your first number one single with The Thunder?”

Thor laughs softly. “Yes. Though it was bittersweet. I knew it meant the end of an era. The start of a new one, yes, but it means that there would no longer be any of those small concerts in tiny venues and cosy bars, where you know that everyone in the crowd genuinely likes your music for the way it sounds. Where you can pick out the familiar faces in front of you.”

“You…” Loki’s eyes widen as he realises exactly what Thor means. “You _know_.”

“I knew a face,” Thor replies softly. “Nothing else. For years, nothing more than a familiar face. I didn’t even know your name, until Stark showed me an article about—well, about himself, actually, but it had a small picture of you, crediting you for designing his clothes. I recognised you immediately.”

Loki doesn’t even know how to respond. He rises to his feet, tempted to just give in to the urge to run, but there are warm fingers wrapping around his wrist, keeping him in place.

“Loki, please.” Thor’s voice is quiet, earnest. “You don’t understand just how much it means to me, to actually be able to _meet_ you. To talk to you.”

Loki laughs, shaking his head. He’s sure his face is burning up, and it has nothing to do with the alcohol. “Oh, you have _no idea_.”

Thor gives him a small, hopeful smile, tugging gently on his hand. “I don’t want this to be about the band, or the fact that I’ve been hoping to talk to you for years.”

“ _Years_ ,” Loki breathes in disbelief.

Thor laughs, letting go of Loki’s wrist once he sits back down. “Yes, well, never mind that. I want to talk to _you_. To get to know you.”

Loki exhales shakily, wishing he could just bury his face in his hands. “I don’t think I’ve drunk enough for this.”

“Would you be happier if I left?” Thor asks, though he sounds reluctant to do so. Loki immediately feels like the worst person in the world.

“No. I don’t… I don’t know what I want right now, to be honest. But more alcohol seems like a good start.”

“Well, then.” Thor stands. “It’s a good thing Stark likes to keep his parties well-stocked. Shall we?”

They’re stopped a few times by people who want to speak to one or both of them and Loki is bemused to find that _he’s_ the one that they speak to more often. Loki drinks another vodka cocktail, while Thor settles for beer. There’s a DJ inside, and there are already several people dancing. As nice as it is to imagine himself pressed right against Thor on the dance floor, Loki leads the way back out to the garden. 

Their seats have already been taken, so they wander instead, talking about anything and everything. It’s easy to talk to Thor once Loki gets started; they have more in common than Loki had ever expected. They’re both from families that are well-off, with fathers that have certain expectations of them. While Thor’s relationship with Odin is much better than that between Loki and Laufey, he is still too stubborn for his father’s liking. Balder, Thor’s younger brother, seems to be the favourite son. At least Balder seems to be supportive, like Byleistr, rather than resentful like Helblindi. 

In fact, Thor seems to be even more stubborn than Loki is, and though they _both_ have big egos, they don’t clash even once.

“I’ll credit that to Tony Stark,” Loki murmurs with a small grin. “If you can get along with _him_ despite his ego, you can get along with just about anybody.”

Thor laughs, deep and warm. “True.”

They’ve stopped walking now, and their backs are to the mansion as they lean against a stone railing that borders an even larger pond. Their shoulders brush against each other when they move and each time it happens, Loki can feel the heat emanating from Thor’s body. He has to keep himself from imagining what it would be like to just curl into it. 

They’ve been talking for so long that Loki has completely lost track of time. It feels like hours since they’ve even gone to get another drink and the thing is, Loki doesn’t _want_ to stop. He just wants to stay here and talk to Thor forever and _of course_ , the moment he has that thought, he gets a message from Amora, telling him that she’s going home with someone, and that nobody has seen Tony or Steve for hours, now.

When they turn around to look at the rest of the party, it’s mostly over. Loki doesn’t doubt that there will be people partying through the entire night, but others still have shows to do, or shows to visit, and they’ve all left.

With a small sigh, Loki turns to Thor. “Well, I guess it _is_ three o’clock.”

Thor smiles. “And you have to get some sleep, so you can wake up and do it all again tomorrow?”

“It won’t be nearly as stressful because I’m done, thankfully. But there are other designers I want to see.”

“Then I should let you go.”

Loki really doesn’t want to turn away, but all he really needs to do is exchange numbers with Thor. They might see each other again. Maybe.

“I enjoyed talking to you tonight. Thank you for the conversation,” Loki begins to say, and Thor clears his throat.

“So did I. And… Loki, forgive me if I am misreading everything, but I do _not_ want to regret not doing this.”

Before Loki can ask, Thor is leaning forward, kissing him. Loki kisses back immediately, his hands coming up to rest on Thor’s shoulders. They kiss again, harder, more insistently, and even though their grip on each other is a little too tight and their noses are being squashed against each other, it still feels like the best thing in the entire universe.

When they pull apart, Thor stays close enough that their noses brush against each other. He grins and says, “Any chance your bed is big enough for two?”

Loki digs his fingers into Thor’s biceps, both in eagerness, and to keep himself standing upright and _damn it_ , he is going to owe Amora that pair of shoes after all.

But right now, he kisses Thor again. “ _Yes_. We’re leaving right now.”

Thor laughs, but his voice is husky as he says, “Lead the way.”

«·»

By the time the cab gets them to Loki’s hotel, they’re still eyeing each other hungrily, but the long day is beginning to get to them. They kiss against the closed door once they’re in Loki’s room, but it’s slow and unhurried now.

Loki likes this better anyway, with the occasional pause just to _look_ at each other with small, affectionate smiles. He leads the way to the bed and their kisses become a little more heated as they get undressed. They lie on their sides, facing each other, and Loki pushes Thor’s boxers down just far enough to free his cock, already so hard and thick.

“Oh _fuck_ , I want this in me,” Loki moans, licking a stripe up his own palm and stroking Thor.

Thor’s breath hitches, his fingers curling around Loki’s clothed erection. “Not right now, though.”

“Tomorrow,” Loki decides, pulling his briefs all the way down and kicking them off before doing the same for Thor.

“Tomorrow,” Thor agrees, rolling them over so that Loki is lying on his back and he’s on top. He takes hold of both of their cocks, stroking as he rolls his hips.

Loki cries out, his back arching as he thrusts into Thor’s grip. He wraps a hand around them as well, slotting his fingers into the gaps between Thor’s.

“Fuck, _Thor_ ,” he gasps, and it’s the first time he’s ever let himself say it like this. Despite the fantasies, he’s never cried Thor’s name before, and it’s all he needs before he’s coming, all over both of their hands.

“Loki, Loki…” Thor follows soon after, their foreheads pressed against each other, mouths just a little too far apart to kiss. 

Loki can’t hold back the smile on his face and the best thing is that Thor is returning it, not even faltering once they cursorily wipe themselves off and settle in bed, naked, sated, and wrapped around each other.

“Good night,” Loki murmurs, and Thor presses a kiss to his forehead before tucking Loki close against him.

It turns out that being wrapped in Thor’s arms is even better than Loki had imagined. He doesn’t think he’s ever gone to bed feeling this relaxed and happy before. 

They sleep in the next morning. Loki is the first to wake and it’s already close to midday. He’s already missed two shows he’d wanted to go to, but he doesn’t really mind at all. Not when has Thor right here in bed with him. 

He runs a hand through Thor’s hair, and then over the bulge of Thor’s bicep and down his muscled chest.

Thor is still asleep, and Loki licks his lips as he disentangles himself. If he’s going to wake Thor, he decides, he’s going to do it the _fun_ way.

Thor’s cock is still soft when Loki slips his lips over it and like this, he can fit the entire thing in his mouth without a problem, nuzzling into the blond curls at the base and breathing in the smell of _Thor_. He moans quietly, feeling Thor growing harder in his mouth, pulling back so he can watch.

It’s already glistening wet from spit, the pink tip of it peeking out from the foreskin. Licking his lips, Loki holds it between his fingers, lapping at the head. Thor groans in his sleep, legs automatically spreading. Loki smiles, sucking on Thor’s balls one at a time, stroking him until he’s completely hard. Thor wakes up with a moan, propping himself up by the elbows to look down at Loki, who is watching him right back, lips stretched around Thor’s cock.

“ _Loki_.” Thor’s head falls back onto his pillow, his fingers twisting in Loki’s hair. 

Loki keeps going, even more enthusiastic now that Thor is being so appreciative. His own cock is hard and desperate for attention, but Loki ignores it, too busy focusing on the way that Thor’s breath hitches whenever Loki’s tongue rubs against his slit.

“Oh, fuck, _Loki_ ,” Thor holds him by the hair, pulling him away. 

Loki’s mouth comes off Thor’s cock with a loud, obscene pop and he makes a disappointed sound as Thor cups a hand around his cock to catch his own come before it spills everywhere.

“I would have let you come all over my face,” Loki says conversationally and Thor moans at that, grabbing Loki and pulling him up into a kiss.

“You are unbelievable,” Thor murmurs, shaking his head in wonder. He sounds reverent, breathless, and Loki is certain that his cheeks are going to hurt from all the grinning. Taking hold of Loki’s erection, Thor kisses him again. “Let me take care of this for you.”

Loki clings to Thor’s shoulders, his face buried in his tousled blond hair to muffle his panting. Thor brushes kisses over Loki’s collarbone and then without any warning, bites down on the junction between his neck and shoulder.

Loki’s orgasm takes him by surprise and he cries out, his fingers digging into Thor’s shoulders so hard that he leaves crescent-moon imprints with his blunt nails.

Thor pulls him close, until Loki’s head is resting on his shoulder. “Aren’t you supposed to be rushing off to see more fashion shows?”

With a small shrug, Loki smiles. “I found something better to do. There’s always next season.”

“I’m more than happy to spend all morning in bed with you,” Thor grins. “All day, if you would like. Though we might need a shower at some point.”

“Shower. Yes.” Loki gets to his feet, not bothering to get dressed as he takes Thor’s hand, pulling him in the direction of the bathroom. 

There’s a pack of condoms and a large bottle of lube on the counter and Thor laughs quietly, picking up the note attached. “ _Dear Snowflake, thank me later. Love, Amora_. That’s your friend, right?”

“Yes,” Loki replies, his cheeks burning as he takes the note from Thor’s hand and crumples it.

“Snowflake?” Thor asks as they step into the shower, the spray hot and relaxing around them. “I heard her call you that last night, too.”

“It’s just a silly nickname.” Loki shakes his head, pulling Thor close until they’re chest to chest. With a smirk, he adds, “Amora was so thoughtful to leave those for us, though. We’d better not let them go to waste.”

“Oh, trust me,” Thor murmurs, kissing Loki. “I doubt that will be a problem.”

«·»

Once they’ve showered and dried themselves off, they pull the dirty sheets off the bed, put a blanket down, and proceed to curl up beside each other. Neither of them seem particularly inclined to let the other out of their reach and Loki is perfectly fine with that, with the way their noses brush as they talk, with the way their legs are wrapped around each other.

But as pleasant as it might be, there’s a voice at the back of Loki’s mind telling him this isn’t going to last. Eventually, Thor will lose interest in him. With so many other people willing to sleep with him, why would he bother staying with Loki? He’ll leave, and then Loki will have to deal with it, deal with the fact that nothing else will quite measure up to this.

He tries to ignore it for now, but Thor notices it anyway, frowning at him with concern.

“What’s the matter?”

Loki looks away, fighting the urge to lean into the hand Thor places on his cheek. “It’s nothing.”

“I doubt that,” Thor says softly. “Talk to me, Loki. Communication is important for every—”

“Every _what_? Relationship?” Loki asks with a quiet, bitter laugh. “Is that what you’re letting me believe?”

“Oh.” Thor’s eyes widen as he understands. “You… you don’t think that I’m going to stay.”

Loki sits up, shaking his head with disbelief, hating himself for even getting into this situation. “Why would you?”

“Why would… _oh_ , Loki, you have no idea at all, do you?” Thor sits up as well, but Loki remains resolutely turned away. 

“No idea about _what_?”

Thor places a hand on Loki’s shoulder. “Look at me. Listen.”

With a sigh, Loki turns around. Thor has a strange, nervous expression that looks completely out of place on him.

“I recognised you, Loki. From the very first show we did, when nobody knew or even cared about the band. You were behind the bar every night we had a performance. We’d play our set and then sit down for a few drinks and you…” Thor laughs quietly, “I always felt like you were the only person in the bar who even listened to what I was singing about. You’d be watching us, whenever I looked over. I’d look forward to the smiles you gave me every time you poured our drinks.”

“You’re lying,” Loki whispers, shaking his head. 

Thor only smiles. “Then we started playing at different venues. Bigger bars. You wouldn’t believe how reluctant I was, thinking that I’d never see you again. Hating the fact that I never took the opportunity to speak to you. But then, when we played our shows, you were there. That’s when I realised that you really _did_ care about our music. We would have gigs and you would be there, right at the front, every single time. I began looking forward to it. The others teased me for it but I didn’t care. I had no idea who you were—I didn’t even know your name then—but that didn’t matter to me at all. I knew, since the beginning, that I wanted to meet you. I wanted to speak to you. I was utterly crazy about you.”

“About _me_ ,” Loki murmurs.

“Fandral would point you out whenever we had bigger concerts. Who do you think I wrote _Black_ for, Loki? And that time—do you remember? I sang it to _you_.”

“I remember that,” Loki whispers. “I thought—”

“You thought I would do that to just _anyone_?” Thor’s hands are on Loki’s shoulders now, pulling him closer. Loki goes willingly, letting himself fall into Thor all over again. “No, Loki. Just you. I waited for you after that concert, you know. Looked for you, until the others grew impatient with me, but you’d slipped away when I wasn’t looking. You trickster.”

Loki laughs, covering his mouth with a hand. “No. _Trickster_ too? You’re joking. Surely. This is just…”

“Too good to be true?” Thor suggests. “That’s how I’ve felt since meeting you last night, but this is _real_. Believe me, Loki. Everything I’ve said to you is true. I’m not going anywhere. Not without you. Not for as long as you’ll have me.”

Loki sits there, holding his face in his hands, his cheeks burning and his heart pounding. He doesn’t know what to say, or what to do. He sits there, and just focuses on _breathing_.

“Loki?” Thor eventually asks with a small, hopeful smile. “Say something. Anything.”

“Kiss me,” Loki murmurs, his hands resting on Thor’s chest. “Just. _Kiss me_.”

Thor does, pulling Loki flush against him and kissing him hard. Loki can feel the way that Thor’s heart is pounding against his own chest and it makes him feel better to know that he’s not the only one who’s absolutely terrified. 

They don’t stop kissing, even as Thor pushes Loki down to lie back on the bed. Loki’s fingers twist into Thor’s hair, keeping him close. Thor uses one hand to hold himself up, the other one reaching blindly for the bedside table where the condoms and lube are.

“You are _insatiable_ ,” Loki says with a laugh. 

“Yeah, well you’re pretty good at keeping up,” Thor replies, stroking Loki’s cock. 

“We really are going to fuck all day, aren’t we?” Loki smirks, wrapping his legs around Thor’s waist.

“Don’t tell me this is a surprise to you.”

“Oh no, not at all.” Taking the lube from Thor’s hand, Loki slicks his own fingers up and reaches down between his legs, grinning as Thor follows with his gaze. “This is going to be _fun_.”

«·»

As much as Loki would prefer to spend the entire week in his hotel room with Thor, he still has work to do. He has the interviews he’s scheduled, and he’s made friends with some of the other designers here, so he wants to go to their shows.

He still needs to make an effort to get his name out there and make sure that people don’t forget about him with all the other shows going on. Unfortunately, that means that Thor has very little to do. Loki fully expects him to get bored and find something else to entertain him, but Thor stays right beside him. He goes to every show, sitting next to Loki and patiently listening to explanations for anything he doesn’t understand. Under the direction of Amora, he quickly learns to tell exactly when Loki hasn’t had enough food, or coffee, and makes sure that he does. He doesn’t smoke as much as Loki does, but he stands outside anyway, keeping Loki company.

Thor seems to have an uncanny way of telling exactly when Loki wants to be left alone, and he’ll go elsewhere, to spend time with his fellow band members, or just find something else to do. He’ll also know when to be affectionate with Loki, when to take hold of his hand and squeeze, not letting go, not even caring who sees.

By the end of their first day out at Fashion Week together, there are already pictures and articles online, outing Thor. They don’t even realise until Amora calls Loki about it.

“Seriously—you should see the photos. They’re adorable, actually. You both look so _happy_. I’m so glad that this is working out for you.”

Loki gets his laptop out and Thor looks over his shoulder, reading one of the articles.

“Is this going to be bad for you?” Loki asks, glancing at Thor. “For the band?”

“What, that I like men? That I like _you_?” Thor scoffs, pressing his lips to Loki’s. “If this means I lose fans, I’m not going to miss them.”

“But your career—” Loki begins, and Thor holds his face in both hands, thumb stroking over his lower lip.

“My career is built on songs about how little I care about what anyone else thinks of me. The rest of the band already knows. I’ve already told them all about you, Loki. None of them care. Why? Does this bother you?”

“No,” is Loki’s immediate reply. “Not at all.”

“Good,” Thor grins, “because if they’re going to make this big a deal out of us holding hands, I’m looking forward to seeing exactly how they’ll react _tomorrow_ , when I’m kissing you right in front of all those cameras.”

Loki laughs with wicked delight. “Oh, I like you. I’m _definitely_ keeping you.”

“Lucky me,” Thor murmurs, kissing Loki lightly.

“I’m fairly sure that you have all of this backwards,” Loki tells him, “but I’m not complaining.”

The next day, Thor is even more affectionate with Loki. He doesn’t seem to be the slightest bit bothered by all the eyes on them as he rests a proprietary hand on Loki’s waist pulling him close for kisses whenever there’s a spare moment.

Loki has fewer shows that he desperately wants to see this time, so he spends more of his day with Thor instead. Even when Loki has interviews to do, Thor will stay beside him as if to say, _I’m here, I’m not going anywhere_ , and Loki hasn’t felt this comfortable in anybody’s presence this quickly for a long time.

They’re just a leaving a café after an interview with a fashion blogger when a familiar voice calls out, “Hey, Loki!”

Byleistr is walking towards them with a huge smile, dressed in his business suit as usual, with a messenger bag slug over his shoulder. They step aside, out of the way of everyone out on the street, and Byleistr puts his hands on Loki’s shoulders.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t make it in time to see your show. Father had me on the other side of the country doing meetings.”

“I doubt that was a coincidence,” Loki mutters, rolling his eyes. “Thor, this is my brother, Byleistr. Byleistr, this is Thor.”

“Your boyfriend?” Byleistr asks, raising his eyebrows as they shake hands.

“Yes,” Thor says, before Loki has the chance to reply. “I am.”

“I saw the rumours online,” Byleistr admits, “but I wanted to make sure for myself. Thor Odinson, huh? Frontman of The Thunder.”

“That’s me.”

Byleistr smiles. Like Loki, he’s just as tall as Thor, but Byleistr is more solidly built. He looks like the kind of person that shouldn’t be trifled with, and he knows it. He uses it to his advantage as he stands a little straighter, looking at Thor.

“I don’t need to tell you what will happen if you hurt my brother, now, do I?”

“Not at all,” Thor replies calmly, giving Byleistr a small smile. “I don’t intend to.”

“Lunch?” Loki suggests, smiling brightly. He takes Thor’s hand into his own and squeezes, pleased when Thor squeezes back. 

Byleistr’s smile becomes happier and less threatening. He begins suggesting restaurants and just like that, the mood lightens.

Lunch is wonderful; Byleistr asks for a recount of Loki’s show and while Loki does his best to remain objective, Thor has no problem with being utterly biased. He describes Loki’s designs with absolute awe and the way he talks about everything shows that he truly paid attention. Loki can’t help but fall in love with him a little. It must show, because when Thor is finished talking, he gives Loki a soft, fond smile and takes his hand under the table.

When Byleistr is leaving, he takes Loki aside, giving him a quick hug.

“I’m proud of you, Loki.” With a grin, he adds, “I’m going to be boasting about you so much.”

Loki laughs. “Thank you.”

“You’ve done well with him, too,” Byleistr says quietly, looking over at Thor. “He really cares about you. It’s good to see that.”

Loki smiles at Thor, who grins back. It’s just a small thing, but Loki can feel his own smile grow. 

Byleistr lets out a quiet huff of amusement and folds his arms across his chest. “Well, I’d better head off now. I’ll leave the two of you alone. I hope I get to see you again soon. Both of you. Bring him home sometime, I’m sure Father will love that.”

“I would, if that wouldn’t send him running in the opposite direction.”

“So you’ll wait a while first,” Byleistr concludes. “If Father and Helblindi don’t scare him away, nothing will.”

Loki smirks. “Get out of here before you give me any more ideas.”

With one final hug, Byleistr nods in Thor’s direction and then he’s gone. Loki returns to Thor’s side—he’s already getting quite a few looks from people passing by who recognise him.

Despite the many eyes on him, Thor beams at Loki, wrapping an arm around his waist to pull him closer. He presses a kiss to Loki’s cheek. “It was nice to meet your brother. Did I pass muster?”

“He likes you,” Loki replies, taking Thor’s hand and leading them away. 

“I’m glad to hear it,” Thor murmurs, walking so close to Loki that their shoulders brush. 

Loki doesn’t even bother hiding his smile as they navigate their way through the crowds of people. He’s already happy enough that he’s made it to Fashion Week and proved himself; Thor is just an added bonus. The fact that he seems intent on sticking around is more than Loki could ever ask for, but he’s certainly not complaining.

«·»

The weeks that come after Fashion Week are just as busy as the ones leading up to it. Loki’s popularity has dramatically increased and that means he returns home to several orders. On top of that, he wants to get his own boutique set up now that he knows there’s enough demand to keep it going.

Then there’s the fact that he and Thor have outed themselves in the public eye. Loki hadn’t really thought that it would be a big deal for him, but now he’s being hounded for interviews by people who want to know what it’s like to be dating the frontman of The Thunder. He’s only been on the fan forums once after returning, and the sheer number of people that hate him would be upsetting if it wasn’t so _amusing_ instead. Amora has even checked up on him; first to make sure that it wasn’t getting him down, and then to make sure that he wasn’t going to bait them even more. 

Thor is busy too. Loki had been introduced to the entire band the moment he and Thor had returned from Fashion Week, but then they had a new album to record. They would barely see each other at all, if not for the fact that Loki spends more time at Thor’s apartment than he does at his own.

“You should invite me over sometime,” Thor comments one night, when they’re eating dinner on his couch. His voice is a little hoarse from spending the entire day singing, but Loki likes it. “I want to see your place.”

Loki smiles to cover up the surge of embarrassment he feels when he compares his small, crappy apartment to Thor’s, which is big, comfortable and uncluttered. “There’s really nothing worth seeing.”

“You should let me decide that,” Thor replies, kissing Loki’s forehead. 

“But tell me,” Loki murmurs, setting both of their empty plates aside on the table and climbing into Thor’s lap. “Why bother, when there are better things we could be doing, right here?”

Thor’s hands settle on Loki’s sides, and there’s a look of pure desire in his eyes. “You’re incredibly difficult to say no to.”

“Mm” Loki hums with a smile as he’s pulled into a kiss. “I know that.”

The problem, however, is that Thor is just as difficult to refuse, and that’s how Loki ends up driving Thor across town at the end of the week. Loki’s neighbourhood is nowhere near as nice as Thor’s and he’s all too conscious of it as Thor looks out of the car window. He doesn’t really know what to say and Thor says nothing either, so Loki opts for silence.

He can’t help but take notice of every little bit of peeling paint and every patch of carpet that’s been worn thin as they walk to Loki’s door. Then he opens it, revealing the tiny place with the old, worn mattress shoved into one corner and everything piled on top of each other.

He’s assuming the worst from Thor’s silence and regretting even bringing him here when Thor asks, “Is that the door to your sewing room?”

Loki had been reluctant to cover parts of Thor’s apartment with sewing, so he comes back here instead if he needs to get something done and doesn’t feel like going to his studio or boutique. Thor has jokingly pouted about how Loki spends so much time away from him, but he seems genuinely interested now.

“Yes. It’s not really anything special—”

“Are you joking?” Thor grins at him, one hand resting on the doorknob. “This is where you _began_ , Loki. Perhaps not where you made your very first clothes, but back when you were in college, this was all you had and you made _use_ of it.”

“I knew that I shouldn’t let Amora tell you all about that.”

“What, you don’t like her talking you up?”

“Oh, nothing like that,” Loki smirks, leaning up to kiss Thor’s lips before opening the door. “It’s just nowhere near as special as she’s led you to believe.”

Thor looks around the room, clearly disagreeing. He wanders over to one of the dress forms with material pinned onto it and even though he looks closely at all that he can, he doesn’t touch a thing.

“This is nothing compared to my studio,” Loki mutters, “and you’ve been there already.”

“Mm, just like you’ve been in our recording studio and you still pored over everything in the music room at my place?”

“That’s different.”

“No it’s not.” Thor places his hand on Loki’s cheek and draws him into a kiss. “Thank you for inviting me here.”

Loki flushes, clearing his throat. “We should order dinner.”

Thor sits on Loki’s mattress, leaning against the wall. When Loki is done placing their order, Thor reaches towards him. It’s surreal to be snuggling with Thor on his own bed, but as Thor’s arms wrap around him, Loki knows that yes, somehow, this is all real.

“I have a surprise for you,” Thor murmurs, pulling something out of his pocket. It’s a small booklet, a little bent at the edges from being carried around all this time. Loki’s eyes widen in recognition.

“That’s for your new album.”

“We finalised all of it today. This is the first one we printed.” Thor pulls Loki closer so they’re sitting back-to-chest, and opens it up. “Here. Have a look.”

Loki doesn’t know what to look at first until Thor points something out. In the liner notes, each band member has their own section and Thor’s is first. His opening sentence thanks Loki. It also says, _and the song is dedicated to you. You know the one._

“I haven’t seen your track listing,” Loki says, twisting around to look at Thor. “Did I miss it somehow?”

“Here.” Thor closes the booklet and turns it to the back. “You get a sneak peek.”

“I’ve always liked your titles. They’re always so simple and to the point— _oh_.”

Thor huffs out a small laugh and Loki reads the name of track eight again just to make sure he’s not imagining things.

“ _Liesmith_.” Loki sucks in a deep breath. “You wrote me a song.”

“I’ve written songs for you before,” Thor murmurs, kissing Loki’s neck. “But this is the first one I’ve written since actually _knowing_ you. I… hope you’ll like it.”

“I already know that I will,” Loki replies, placing his hand over Thor’s. “Thank you.”

“I have the song with me,” Thor tells him, taking his phone out. “If you want to hear it.”

“In a minute.” Loki turns around so that he’s straddling Thor, and holds the sides of his face. “Just let me…”

When they kiss, Loki can feel Thor smiling against his lips. It makes Loki smile in turn, kissing him harder. Thor’s hands are a warm and welcome weight where they rest on Loki’s sides, and it doesn’t really seem likely that they’ll stop kissing any time soon.

Not that Loki minds. If this is his life now, it’s absolutely _perfect_.


End file.
